


Scent

by shanivoneverec



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Mid-Canon, Panic Attacks, Pining, i was considering tagging this scent kink but i think it's more an adora kink than anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanivoneverec/pseuds/shanivoneverec
Summary: The blanket is there – Adora’s blue blanket. Adora’s smell has long since faded from it, but Catra keeps it anyways.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 156





	Scent

Catra’s dead tired.

She tries telling herself that it’s worth it; Salineas has fallen and the other princesses are panicking and in disarray. They’re winning; _she’s_ winning. If they keep going like this, they’ll capture Bright Moon before Horde Prime comes no problem, and once Horde Prime arrives, well…Catra might not know much about him, but she imagines proving useful to the guy would garner some nice perks, maybe even secure her an even better position in the Horde. 

Really, victory should taste sweeter than it does.

She sighs irritably as she walks down the hall to her room, rounding the corner and passing two guards who were clearly napping. For once, she ignores them, even as they’re startled awake and mutter quick apologies before hastily shuffling the opposite way. That’s the way it is now; everyone’s too scared to even be around her. No one questions her and no one talks to her.

No one stays for her, either.

Catra’s ear twitches as she passes Scorpia’s room, listening for any hint of movement. Her frown deepens when there’s nothing of the sort. She runs her fingers through her hair and quickly stalks by, pushing the shame as deep down as it’ll go.

It’s like she said. None of them matter. Nothing matters but the mission and tearing down everyone who’d ever hurt her – everyone who’d ever doubted or underestimated her. If she could just pull this off…if she could hold out just a little bit longer…

They would all see. Shadow Weaver. Hordak. Scorpia. Double Trouble.

….Adora.

She intakes a sharp breath at the thought, feeling something ache deep within her. Instinctively, her hand flies to her cheek and she feels the dull throbbing as if it were yesterday. She loses her breath, can practically feel the pounding of her heart as if it’s trying to escape from her chest, and she’s struck with the sudden urge to collapse in the middle of the hallway.

She kneels, feeling sick and exhausted and dizzy. She tries to listen for footsteps; she can’t be seen like this. But the only thing she can hear is the beating of her heart and the roaring in her ears. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

_Scorpia…portal…bad friend…losing…Adora…Beast Island…Entrapta…my fault…_

_Live with it._

“You made your choice. Now live with it!” Adora had shouted before punching her.

Catra’s vision shatters, breaking into pieces and various colors – she sees stars, too. Impossible. There are no stars here.

For a moment, she feels as if she’s being corrupted again, morphing back into that portal abomination. But then the stars disappear, as they have for centuries, and her vision returns to her. She doesn’t feel warm at the realization that she’s whole – that she hasn’t been corrupted. She isn’t comforted, but she is steady enough to stand and pretend that didn’t happen. No one needs to know that Force Captain Catra is having panic attacks and yearns for sleep more than she yearns for winning.

She takes a quick look around, suddenly extremely self-conscious, before growling and hastening to her room.

It’s been awhile since she’s thought of Adora – _really_ thought of her. The pace of war had distracted her well enough for the past several months, but when Scorpia left…well…Catra figures it hit a nerve somewhere. A strand of feeling Catra likes to pretend she doesn’t carry with her anymore.

The last time she’d seen her face to face had been when they’d captured the Elberon villagers and planted Double Trouble among the ranks of the other princesses. Catra wants to feel pride, but Double Trouble still hasn’t reported in, and something awful and frightening picks at Catra’s heartstrings and tells her that she should’ve expected this. Everyone leaves her.

Adora had left, too. But for the longest time Catra had still carried hope that Adora would come back to her eventually. There was something there still, no matter how many times Catra tried to kill it. The teasing that Catra loved, the not-so-subtle flirting that she pretended not to notice, and the banter that came so easily for them both, demonstrating how beautifully matched they were in both skill and wit: Catra had enjoyed it all, perhaps a little too much. Because, at the very least, it filled her with that sweet, dreadful familiarity.

Not anymore. Catra ruined that, too.

“I’m done playing your games, Catra. Too many people got hurt when you set off that portal!”

Adora had threatened her, had told her she wouldn’t let Catra hurt anyone ever again. Adora was done with her.

And Catra feels betrayed when she realizes how much that still fucking hurts. But that’s the sad state of her life. She’s allowed to win for awhile, but then something happens or someone else breaks her heart and suddenly Adora has the upper hand. Right now, even though she hasn’t seen Adora in so, so long, Catra wants her so desperately that she’s barely able to process it.

Catra’s mind goes blank as she enters her room, shivers in the cold emptiness of it. Her eyes settle on her bed, lonely and just as uncomfortable as the bunks she and Adora had slept in when they were cadets. Except back then they’d had each other. Nowadays she only has the silence and her own thoughts for company. And…one other keepsake.

The blanket is there – Adora’s blue blanket. Adora’s smell has long since faded from it, but Catra keeps it anyways.

Biting her lip, Catra approaches the bed and takes the blanket in her hands, running her thumbs over the thin material. This scratchy piece of fabric holds so many memories for her.

Carefully, pausing as if someone will walk in at any second, Catra pulls it up to her face. She lets it linger there, nuzzles against it, and then takes a deep breath and lets herself imagine that Adora’s scent is still there.

Before she left, Adora always smelled clean. Like standard Horde soap and the same musky shampoo all of the cadets were given. But Catra had an excellent sense of smell, and having always been so close to Adora, she could detect something just under the surface: something woodier and sweeter. That had been Adora’s natural scent, something to which only Catra was privy.

She remembers how it smelled back then. She smells it now, not caring if it’s a trick of her mind.

Her brow creases as she continues to sniff, and then she closes her eyes. They feel so heavy and weary. They ache for reprieve.

She pulls the blanket away with a sigh, though she refuses to let go. Her fingers are trembling as she clutches to it. She swallows, replaying images of Adora in her mind – memories of secret sleepovers where they’d hold each other close, of lonely nights just after Adora left when Catra clutched Adora’s pillow to her chest and inhaled as she choked on her own sobs.

She’s disgusted by how desperate she was, and even more disgusted at the realization that nothing’s changed at all. She pushes those thoughts aside. Lonnie was right. They all need R&R, her especially. If she’s going to let herself cut loose, she may as well do it while she’s drunk off memories of Adora and her scent.

Catra takes her mask off, lets it fall through her fingers and clatter onto the floor. When she climbs into bed, she takes the blanket with her.

Falling onto her back with a small huff, Catra glares at the ceiling for a moment and nearly lets sleep take her away. Her eyelids begin to droop, and she hears the faintest buzzing of a far-off dream as she grows even drowsier. It’s been so long since she’s allowed herself to lie down.

But no, she thinks to herself, pinching her arm. The sooner she falls asleep, the sooner she’ll wake up alone and exhausted. She’ll be sober, and the blanket will once more be just that – a blanket smelling only of herself.

Not to mention, the longer she allows herself to think of Adora, the more she’s made aware of the persistent ache throughout her body. And not only that; she aches between her legs, too.

Catra’s fingers dance along the waistline of her leggings, hesitating until she’s sure she actually wants to do this. They disappear under the elastic material when it becomes clear to her that _yes_ , she really does want this. She _needs_ this.

“Can’t fucking believe this,” she hisses, jerking with shock when her fingers gloss over her sex from outside her panties. She’s already so wet. She groans, resolving to remove her leggings entirely so that her wrist isn’t twisted so awkwardly underneath the material. Shucking the pants off completely, and resigned to the fact that they may need a wash as well, Catra finally leans back and lets her fingers trace the outline of her sex openly.

It’s been so long since she’s done this. Too long.

“Adora…,” she sighs, fingers passing over her throbbing clit. There’s a heat in her belly, and every swipe of her fingers over the dampened cloth stirs that heat within her, but it isn’t enough. “Oh, _Adora_ ,” she sighs again, even more breathlessly this time. She becomes momentarily self-conscious and cracks an eye open when she finally realizes she’s closed them. But no one’s coming for her, so it’s safe to continue.

Closing her eyes again, Catra pulls the blanket closer and creates a fantasy in her head. As she searches for that long-lost scent, any last remaining trace of Adora, she imagines Adora there with her.

Adora is laying beside her, whispering soft, precious things in her ear as her fingers finally slide underneath Catra’s moist panties and brush against that throbbing wet heat. Skin touching skin, it’s more than Catra deserves when Adora nearly rips her underwear in half in an attempt to get them off. They’re rolled haphazardly down Catra’s legs, and she moans and bucks up against Adora’s worshipping fingers as she kicks them off.

“You’re so good, Catra,” Adora murmurs in her ear before delving lower to lick and suck at a spot on Catra’s neck.

Catra’s other hand flies to that spot, tickles it. She relishes the imaginary feeling of Adora’s hot mouth on such a tender area. Oh fuck, what would that mouth feel like even lower?

“You’re so good, baby,” Catra hears Adora murmur again, even though Adora’s never called her ‘baby’ in her life. Why would she? But Catra likes it, so she tosses her head back, mouthing a quiet _fuck_ as she loses herself in the fantasy once more. “You’ve done such a good job. I won’t leave you again. I _promise_.”

It’s that last word that makes Catra choke on a sob. She rubs faster for a moment, feeling the pleasure build as she puts pressure just off center, gliding over her clit and then pressing down again and again. She’s dripping onto her sheets, she’s sure, but she also still feels so empty. A teardrop or two slides down her face, but she doesn’t have the will to remove her fingers to wipe them away. One hand rubs her sex languidly, and the other grabs for the blanket again and pulls it halfway across her body. If Adora were actually here, her warmth would give Catra the security she’s looking for.

This will have to do for now.

“Don’t leave me, baby,” Catra whimpers, inching her fingers lower until they’re completely sticky with her cum, posed just above her entrance. “ _Please_ , love you so much,” she gasps as one finger enters her.

The shock of being inside herself temporarily distracts her from the terrible thing she just admitted. She can’t think on those words right now, can’t lose herself to them. Even if they’re true, still loving Adora after having hurt her over and over again is more than Catra can bear. She’s not ready to face that side of herself. She’s not ready to face the implications of her feelings for Adora, of how pointless her rage seems when she lets those feelings steer her thoughts.

She’s not ready to be wrong.

Another finger enters and Catra seizes up, but it’s okay because Adora is there.

“Shh, Catra,” she whispers, scooting closer so Catra is engulfed in her scent, which is now mixed with the combined scent of their mutual want for each other. “What do you need?”

The fingers pause as Catra considers this. Running her tongue over her bottom lip, wincing at how sore and chapped it is, Catra looks up at the ceiling and imagines she’s looking into Adora’s eyes instead.

“I’m fine,” she pants. “Just kiss me.”

And Adora does, and Catra has no reference for this part of her fantasy. She imagines what it would be like to taste Adora. Pumping her fingers in and out of her entrance, her thumb still flicking over clit, Catra imagines what it would be like to taste herself on Adora’s tongue.

The thought of Adora down there, settled between her legs and lapping her wetness up like the lovely, eager idiot she is, is too much for Catra. And with one last cry, which breaks off at the last note as she throws her head back, Catra feels her walls spasm around her fingers. Her body shivers and twitches as the force of her orgasm hits her harder than it had in years, and with some resistance, she pulls her fingers out and brings them to her face as her legs continue to tremble. She lowers them back to the bed, lazily tracing one hand up her body as she sniffs the other, licking softly at her own release. For just a moment longer, she pretends that Adora licks her fingers clean, moaning against them as she indulges herself. It’s enough to make Catra shiver, and that same heat flares again in her lower belly.

But no, she’s appeased the ache for now. Reveling in this fantasy more would be overkill, and she really does need to rest before returning to reality.

Stripping herself of the rest of her clothing, Catra curls up naked against the blanket. She never sleeps naked, but this is a special occasion.

She’s on the edge of victory, and even while drenched in sweat and cum from fantasizing about her archenemy, Catra hopes that this time she’ll find satisfaction in whatever outcome awaits them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm not sure why I wrote this and I'm so sorry. :'D I imagine this takes place around the same time as the episode "Fractures" in Season 4. 
> 
> Please forgive my trash smut.


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